Stories - FD Thornton

I’m currently sitting in my daughter’s massage chair. Me and George spent the last 45 minutes raking leaves and dog shit, both which we have in abundant supply. I quit taking after noticing a blister on my hand, that had already popped. So I came inside, washed my hands and got a band aid. I know this doesn’t sound like much of a day, but it’s getting things done. If you think about it, life is never about a big series of events. It’s about the tedious and the mundane things that make real special events…special. As much as I like to say “just let it go”, there still have to be moments of planning and work. Without working on my mental health issues, I’d still be balled up in a corner of a room somewhere. Without work and routine, I’d still be laying in a bed not growing any stronger after my heart issues. You see despite what we may wish for, nothing ever improves without planning and action. Even in the depth of Zen philosophy, things have to be done. As much as I l

At my most impressionable years were spent at end of the hippie movement in the early '70's. While there weren’t too many hippies in Bloomingdale, we did have a ton of big brothers and uncles over in Vietnam. So every night I’d either sit in front of Cronkite or Huntley and Brinkley, and listen the nearly live reports from the front lines. I had four uncles that were Vietnam era veterans, two serving in country. The war was never far from my family’s mind. I grew up a pacifist, my Dad a Korean era draftee never cared for me to carry on his military legacy. He much preferred I become a company man like himself. Working for a company that couldn’t care less about him. Sitting here enjoying a little morning sunlight, I’m reminded of spring mornings hopping on my bike and riding for literally hours at the time. The dirt roads of my hometown were perfect for all kinds of adventures. I think about that now, and I feel sad for the locked down children of today. It seem

I listen to my heart. I also listen to my head. The two aren’t always in sync, but they’re the closest thing I got to a conscious. So what do you do? Other than feeling like I should be dragged away by a lab coat. I find that venting my emotions really clears me out. Offers me a different perspective or at least a new angle to view. Old George is laying at my feet, while I peck away at this tiny keypad. Pushing out homogenized pearls of wisdom, no one but myself cares to hear. I wish I had a more glamorous style, but hell, I jumped off the style train damn near 40 years ago. So your stuck with this, a broken soul and a half-ass body held together with SRS meds and heart medicine. It’s sad I know. But I learned my lessons along the riverbanks and the abusive relationships I fell into. I resist anyone feeling bad for me. But when you walked a tightrope alone for so long, the calluses form in just the right places. Preferring my own company, I wallow in self-pity when it

Why do I crave the sky? Always looking beyond what’s in front of me? I push the agenda of the here and now. But it doesn’t explain my desire for tomorrow. The leap of joy and the optimism can bring. The here and now is about awareness, presence, and focus. But it’s dreams that carry us, advance us to better tomorrows. I often look up, mostly because my linear vision is so limited. But when I look up, I see unlimited possibilities. I see potential beyond my sight. So as the clouds build for yet another rainy tomorrow. I take in these last few moments of light, to appreciate not only the now, but the future as well. 

I know I shouldn’t complain, I mean it’s 32°, and not like it’s twenty below. But I’m sandwiched between a mattress, two sheets, two blankets, a comforter, and a couple of throw covers. I can see my breath while I breathe and fingers are peeking out from under the covers just so I can type. Not sure what the temperature is in this house. But as soon as the sun gets a little higher, I’ll be outside with the warm sun to my back. I don’t wear my poverty as some badge of honor, no more than any of the other billions of people do. It’s just simply a fact. Watching those folks in Texas this week was a reminder that someone’s always got it worse than you. But to sit and judge a person’s worth by how tough and independent they are is fool hearty. Proud after all was the original sin (Isaiah 14:12-17). I heard someone recently rail against “big government” bailouts and oversight. Making the same old claims about big brother and the loss of “freedom”. Honey, I hate to hurt your

I don’t know rather you noticed it or not, but I’m in my own backyard. Not much of a view, but it bets living packed like a sardine with a six-foot fence blocking the view. Hadn’t had much to say lately, but maybe that’s a good thing. Been under the covers most of the day, I suppose I should have taken advantage of the sunshine. But my head and gut had other plans. I noticed that happening more and more lately. Maybe it’s because of the new routine, maybe it’s just a phase I’m going through, or maybe it’s some new kinda blues. Whatever it is I don’t like it. It’s pulling me out of my comfort zone and not in a good way. I don’t mind life handing me some funk every now and then. But this shit been going on far too long. Funny how you can make plans and dream dreams, but there’s only so much disappointment one can take. I wish I could be a bit more “cheerier” about this. But the cold wind blowing across my hands drains the optimism I usually feel in

I’m obsessing. Yes, I admit it I’m obsessing. I know good and damn well I shouldn’t let things out of my control bother me. Yet, here I am worrying and planning my next move. This shouldn’t come as no surprise to anyone because I ky you all do it too. To going into any detail of the situation is a moot point. It’s just that I know better than to let this thing disturb my thinking, my sleep, and frankly my well-being. But what can I say? I’m doing it anyway. For most of my life I allowed obsession to turn into worry, then later turn into panic. At first my panic was just internal, then it manifested itself into a living physical thing. Not only paralyzing my judgement, but my actual physical presents. Creating fear, anxiety, and paralysis. It’s funny, as if the past year wasn’t enough to raise the anxiety stakes. Now my very freedom of getting around has been taken. Leaving me with even less control over my life. It’s easy to say, “I’m just going to let go”, when you hav

It’s just me and George in the late afternoon, he’s getting a little antsy waiting for his Momma to get home. He’s whimpering while looking out the window. Unfortunately, he doesn’t see any comfort in me. That’s because I’m the adult in the room, while my daughter is “Mommy”, the young and energetic one. All he gets from me is the occasional partner that tosses the tennis ball and puts him outside. You can’t blame me though, after all I’m a cat person; I find dogs to be too…needy. At the moment I’m reminded of the fragility of this life. The energy and endless possibilities of oneself we all carried and left behind to pursue life. I often joke (much to the horror of my family) about my warranty expiring at age 59. But I mean seriously, my parents didn’t leave me with much of a genetic legacy. But now at age 58, the shits getting real. At times like this, I feel like God’s paying me back for all the times I am a jerk (notice I didn’t say was a jerk). I suppose I’m payi

In moments of awareness, time losses it’s meaning. Hours pass into seconds, seconds into days, days into minutes. To breathe in awareness is to see long buried truths, some good, some bad, but all necessary. Like the addicted making amends, I must forgive myself for being me, then the healing can begin. The peace I sought as a young man drifted through my fingers. So I searched for fulfillment in whatever straw I grasped. Seeing these things, I understand the denial, the escape we all search for. For true love comes from loving oneself. In dreams I see visions of lives past. Of ghost that teach me to this day from memories. A pitcher of tea sitting in the refrigerator. Two sisters dancing carelessly in thoughtless bliss. They all mean something to me. To the unwritten plan of life laid out before me. So I clear my mind: with no past, no future, only now. 

I often wake up in the morning, knowing “good an damn well” I got pills to take and testing to do. Yet I’ll lay right there and do nothing till I start feeling Ill. With my Type 2 diabetes, I’ll either ignore my morning test or worse yet not eat anything till I’m about ready to pass out. I’m not sure if it’s just laziness or lack of motivation make me this way. Or if it’s the lingering effect of my good-old self-destructive behavior. I suppose I should ponder these things and take appropriate action. Instead, I just chalk it up to having a bad day and let the shit go. Right now I got a lot of shit on my plate. So I’m giving myself a hard pass on the guilt and lofty expectations. Because I see people that push themselves hard to achieve a goals, only to be left disappointed time and time again. Listen I know how it feels to be disappointed. To reach out for the brass ring, only to get knocked off that horse. There’s nothing wrong with having goals. In fact I have achieve

  I took a couple of days off, simply answering messages and editing some friend’s work. Sometimes inspiration comes to me in waves, other times it’s has to be forced out. One of the most fascinating things about telling stories are the responses I get back. It’s interesting to read the comments and see the points others pull from my words. When I first started publishing my stories publicly, I was so afraid other people would be critical of my words. And yes, there were critics that either disagreed with my thoughts or felt the need to correct my grammar. I first started publishing my thoughts on specialized forums like the mental health forum “Panic No More” and a student forum at the “University of Phoenix”. With each I gained confidence and grew as a writer. I then started a blog on “Blogger” (which is still there) back in 2011. Eventually there came the eBooks, then the paperbacks through Kindle Digital Publishing (available through Amazon). All the while working to build my busin